


Counting Scars

by Paladog_Vyt



Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Body Modification, Burns, Chemicals, Gen, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Past Abuse, Podfic Welcome, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:13:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24168664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paladog_Vyt/pseuds/Paladog_Vyt
Summary: Several mechanisms contemplate various scars on their bodies, and through them the past, the future, and their own identities. A series of vignettes.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 76





	Counting Scars

Raphaella cursed as the beaker tipped, letting out a pained hiss as the contents spilled over her hand. She examined the afflicted limb, skin now puckered and mottled an angry purple color, gingerly trying to flex and bend her fingers. She looked over to the laser cutter a few feet away on the lab bench and contemplated. It wasn’t the worst chemical spill she had experienced. Prior data suggested it _would_ heal in time; but the scars and damage would have a long-term cost in dexterity and precision, at least until she could get used to using it, and maybe beyond. Alternatively, a new hand had a higher initial cost in the time it took to regenerate, but would be in perfect condition once ready. She sighed. As frustrating as it was to put the experiment on hold, as a scientist she looked to the long-term. She couldn’t sacrifice consistency for convenience. Making a note in the lab logs with her uninjured hand- centuries of these sorts of things had made her ambidextrous by practice if not genetics- she fired up the laser.

* * *

Holding the engraving tool in one hand, Brian looked down at his chest. After ages in the dusty winds of Camelot, the name once carved into it had been eroded to gibberish. But a hundred years burning and reforming in Avalon had wiped everything away completely. It had taken weeks to reform the parts that had settled in a melted, distorted state, welding himself back into proper shape. The brass body he saw in the mirror was finally the one he expected- except for the blank expanse of his chest. Did he want to carve his name in again? It hadn’t been a choice, the first time. And in some ways, the purifying heat of the sun had been a welcome gift- at last he didn’t have to belong to _her_. Hell, he wasn’t even sure Brian was his name, and not something Carmilla had saddled him with on a whim. This could be an opportunity- to rename himself, to take a stand on his own self-identity. Except… he heard his heart beating, the fleshy thump echoing in its metal casing. The hollow sound reminded him of how empty he was- no past, no memory, no truth. Everything he was, everything he had, was what someone else had made. Almost. The name might belong to that lone heart- could he throw it into the empty void, and give up what little sliver of self he had left?

* * *

Tim sat hunched over a kitchen table, left hand splayed on the surface, chef’s knife clutched in his right, darting up and down, weaving through the spaces between his fingers. Sometimes the knife missed, and scored a deep line into his skin. This was fine. It wasn’t his goal, specifically. But after blowing off his left arm in a bombing accident months ago, the fresh, smooth skin looked…blank, off-putting, alien to the rest of his body. The arm would look and feel more like his own again with a few scuffs and dents in it, gunpowder burns on his fingertips, bullet wound kisses on his skin.

* * *

The Toy Soldier lifted a tin of loose tea back onto the kitchen shelf, and saw one of the _Aurora_ ’s spiders scuttle out of its elbow and scurry away. It didn’t mind when the spiders popped inside it for a visit. Used to navigating the ship, they knew how not to get entangled in its clockwork gears and joints. And having the spiders around meant it didn’t have to worry about termites or wood-boring beetles. Besides, it had heard that it was important to carry one’s friends in one’s heart. It did not have a heart, so “clockwork-wood body cavities” would have to do, and the spiders were the only friends small enough to fit. As it waited for the water to heat up, it examined its body for splinters. It could get wounded, in its own fashion- shot and stabbed and cracked. But it was splinters that actually frightened it. It was haunted by the idea- not of being broken or destroyed, but _eroding_ , slowly, wearing away bit by tiny bit into nothingness. Perhaps it was time for a new coat of varnish, to hold itself together. And a fresh paint job, before its face faded away into blank, worn wood.

* * *

Craning her neck to the light, Nastya stared at her reflection and frowned. Why were those scars still there? A silver snakebite shone on the pale skin of her throat. She didn’t throw herself into danger like Jonny did. But even so she had beheld centuries, and not uneventful ones. No matter what happened- no matter how that patch of skin ended up sliced or burned or gouged or torn, it healed with those two fang-points showing. They seemed to be mocking her- Carmilla laying claim to her body, always present, regardless of the fact she had been shoved out of an airlock ages ago. _It didn’t make any sense_.

“You can’t get rid of a scar like that” Jonny had told her. “It’s too important to your story.”

But Jonny was _wrong_ and a _liar_ and it _couldn’t_ be true- there had to be a way. Maybe there was a problem with her mechanism. Maybe the nanotech was glitching. She would ask Raphaella to help her with an upgrade patch. Again. It would work this time.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a reference to Coutning Stars by OneRepublic. Fight me about it.   
> If inspiration strikes, may add more Mechanisms, but I don't have something in mind so don't count on it?


End file.
